The Land: Catacombs (Chaos Seeds Book 4) (18 page)

Average Loyalty has decreased from +321 to +151.

DONG!

The Morale of your village has decreased from
Happy
to
Neutral
.  The Morale of your people has decreased to the point that there is no effect upon population growth, productivity, or fighting spirit.

DONG!

The Loyalty of your village has decreased from
Dependable
to
Neutral
.  The Loyalty of your people has decreased to the point that there is no effect upon productivity. 

Know This!  Your leadership has inspired more than 25% of your villagers to swear fealty.  Ongoing changes in Loyalty are twice as effective.

Know This!  The Loyalty change from your Tenet,
An Honorable Ruler I
, has increased from +0.5 to +1 Loyalty increase per day.

Hmmm, Richter thought.  What was it the Aes Sedai said?  The rule of three consequences or something like that?  He hadn’t really thought about how adding more people to his village might take away the perks that the increased morale and loyalty had granted.  He supposed it made sense though.  Like adding water to dark red Kool-Aid, there would be more to go around, but it would definitely be less sweet.  The bump to his Tenet was a nice surprise though.  If the Loyalty of his people was two hundred and thirty-one, the overall Loyalty should be back to “Dependable” again in a little over two weeks.  Not too long of a time to wait for a 20% production bonus, Richter thought with a smile. 

He smiled as he saw a series of prompts that showed increases in the regard that many of the villagers had for him.  There were dozens of them and he quickly saw that they were the people whose magic had been awakened.  He hadn’t expected such an outpouring of love when he had made his new magi, but he would take it.  This time the rule of three worked in his favor. 

He closed all of the prompts and saw Futen floating towards him. 

“Greeting, my lord,” he said in his deadpan voice. 

“Good morning, Futen.  Is anyone looking for me?”

“Not that I am aware of, my lord.”

“Well what time is it?”

“It is two hours until noon, Lord Richter.”

“Okay, find Gloran, Basil, and Randolphus and have them meet me at the feast area.  I need to get some breakfast.  Then go over to the ships and have Hafiz’s sons meet me as well.  I think they’ve waited long enough.”

Futen said farewell and floated off to do as he was bid. 

*
Are you ready for some food, my love?
*

She didn’t respond for a second, but then she thought poutingly, *
Yes, Master.
*

So they started off on the epic quest to find some grub.

CHAPTER 12
 

Richter was digging into his second helping of eggs, potatoes, and venison, all the while bemoaning the lack of ketchup, when Randolphus came up.

“Greetings, my lord.  I am pleased to see that you survived the night.”

Richter smiled at the disapproving man standing on the other side of the table. “Things did get a little wild last night, huh?”

“Well, when the dwarfs started playing noggins, I decided it was time to retire for the night.”

Richter’s face wrinkled in confusion.  He didn’t remember that at all.  “Noggins?”

Randolphus sighed. “It involves a round of singing where the dwarves walk in a circle, occasionally changing direction.  When the song stops, whichever dwarves are at the top and the bottom of the circle run at each other full pelt until they slam their heads together.  If you get knocked down, you are knocked out of the game.  There is, of course, a large amount of drinking involved as well.”

Richter didn’t even need to ask if he had joined
that
particular game.  The fact that he didn’t have a skull fracture made it clear that he hadn’t.  “So what you’re saying is—”

“You threw a truly epic party, my lord.”

“Yes,” Richter said, nodding sagely.  “Yes, I did.  I’m surprised that you would admit that though, Randy.” 

“You ordered me to tell you that last night, my lord,” Randolphus said somewhat sourly.

“Yes,” Richter said again, gently stroking his chin in satisfaction.  Then he smiled at his chamberlain. “I’ve asked Futen to bring Hafiz’s sons to meet me.  I wanted you here so we could make sure to place orders for anything that the village needs.  Now while we’re waiting, is there anything else we need to speak about?”

“Well, my lord, now that you mention it.”  Randolphus kept talking and Richter went on autopilot, just saying “yes” or “no” perfunctorily.  His conscious thoughts were replaying the “meow” scene from Super Troopers and wondering if Whoopee and Picard had gotten busy on the Enterprise. 

Thankfully he was saved before too much time had passed.  Basil walked up to the table they were sitting at and plopped down next to Randolphus. The man’s shirt was slightly torn and a large stain that looked like dried ale covered his front.  Richter could see a burgeoning bruise on the trader’s left cheek, and the man had some twigs and pieces of leaves in his hair. 

“What was in that ale, my lord?”  Basil’s voice quavered and randomly rose and fell in pitch.  “Was it demons?  Did that damn Earth mage put demons in the ale?”

Richter looked at the man in amused shock.  He’d never seen the outwardly uptight man talk like that before.  Basil saw his lord looking at him in surprise and misinterpreted the gaze for one of rebuke. “I apologize, Lord Richter.  I just have a bit of a headache.”

Richter didn’t want the man to clam back up into a conservative shell, so he confided that, “Don’t worry about it.  I’m still looking for the cat.”

“What cat?” Basil said, confused.

“The one that must have shit in my mouth while I was sleeping last night,” he replied with a completely straight face. 

Basil just looked at him with surprise of his own for a moment, then started chuckling.  Even Randolphus laughed aloud at that one, and all three men enjoyed the comradery you can only find by having drunk deeply from the cup of Bacchus and having lived to tell the tale.  Whenever the laughter started to die, one of them would add another ribald comment and the levity would be revived. 

A few minutes later, Richter was wiping tears from his eyes.  One of the village men had brought over large platters of food and set them down on the table.  Randolphus explained that he thought a bit of food might make the negotiations go smoother.  For the thousandth time, Richter marveled at his luck in finding his chamberlain.  Then he wondered if it really was his Luck characteristic having come into play.  If so, he would need to add more to the esoteric stat ASAP.

Once Basil had eaten some food and, at Richter’s strong urging, had a bit of the hair of the dog that had bit him, the former Yves merchant looked more alert.  Richter decided to broach the topic at hand. 

“Basil.”  The man looked up from his plate at hearing the serious undertone in his lord’s voice.  He swallowed the last bite he had taken, put his knife down, and gave Richter his full attention.  “We have a fight coming our way.  If the past weeks have taught me anything, it’s that these mists are not an absolute defense.  We need to get stronger and we need more allies.”

Basil nodded. “I understand, my lord, and I am ready and willing to do whatever I can to serve.”

“Good man,” Richter said, nodding.  “Tomorrow I want you to leave at first light.  You are to go into the Serrated Mountains and treat with the dwarf tribes.  Your primary goal should be to get fighters that are willing to come down to the forest and fight the bugbears and their allies.  A secondary, but almost as important goal, is to foster relations between the Mist Village and the groups that you find.  I want to be clear that I’m not expecting miracles.  This is just a first step.  After you leave this table, I want you to go see Krom.  He is to give you any weapons and armor that you need.  After that, I want you to spend the day getting as much information about the dwarves from him and anyone else in the village that can be helpful.  Tell them that helping you is to take precedence over anything else they may be doing.  Knowing Krom, you will probably get some pushback.  Tell him that if I have to come make the point myself, then Alma will be making the point with lightning.”  The dragonling looked up from where she was filching morsels from Basil’s plate.  She flared her wings happily and then unashamedly grabbed a piece of meat in her forepaws and started tearing off hunks with her sharp teeth. 

Richter smiled at her lovingly.  Then he reached into his Bag and pulled out three purses.  “These two have a hundred gold coins each.  From what Krom told me, money talks and bullshit walks with the dwarves of the mountains.”  Basil smiled at hearing that unknown idiom, but the meaning was clear enough that Richter didn’t need to explain this time.  He continued speaking. “I’m sure that you are not going to convince anyone of the rightness of our cause just by words.  I’m equally sure that you’re going to have to bribe some people to get through certain territories and to get certain introductions. Use the money as you will.  Once you get in to see the chiefs or kings or whatever the hell the main man calls himself, that’s when you use this pouch.”  He tapped the larger brown hide bag.  “I have twenty Potions of Clarity in here.  These are to be given as gifts of respect and as a taste of what the village can offer to friends and good trading partners.  Now with all that being said, I have already seen among the dwarves in the village that there are certain factions, like the Bone Crusher clan, that I don’t think we would… mesh well with.  I won’t fully write a group off without meeting them personally, but I want you to use your own intuition and Krom’s advice to decide if there are any groups you should avoid.  Keep in mind as you meet these tribes and clans that every potential ally is also a potential enemy.  Do not invite a snake into our garden.  You’ll be going with two dwarves that Krom recommends as guides and liaisons.  I’ll also be sending ten guards with you.”

Basil listened to the entire long speech without interrupting.  When Richter was done, he asked a few targeted questions.  After that, he just said, “I won’t let you down, sir.”  Richter half stood and reached across the table. Basil did the same, and the two men clasped wrists.  When they let go, the trader was going to leave, but Richter bid him stay a bit longer.  He could see four men approaching, led by Futen.  He could only assume that they were Hafiz’s sons.  Though Basil would be an integral part in preparing for the future war with the bugbears, Richter was fairly certain that a different type of conflict was about to happen right now.  It would be bloodless and it would be economic, but he was glad Basil’s business experience could help in this arena as well. 

Richter stood, and his chamberlain and diplomat followed suit.  A mental command was enough for Alma to abandon the rest of her breakfast and fly to perch on his broad shoulders.  They stood waiting as the four men approached.  All were clad in the same white silk and red sash that he had seen their father wear.  They all also wore white turbans, but that was where the physical similarities ended.  He remembered Hafiz as a short, portly fellow that looked just like the nice sultan in Aladdin.  Basically a kindly, but shrewd, grandfather. 

These guys looked more like Sons of Anarchy.  Each was at least six feet tall, and they had strong angular faces covered in well-trimmed beards.  Their tunics were sleeveless and large muscles stood out in easily followed definition on their arms.  Their skin was the color of toasted almonds, and their weathered faces spoke of a life of frequent travel.  They wore empty sheaths at their waists that were curved as if built for scimitars.  Each had an intense expression and they looked around as if noting every little detail of what they saw.  There was a clear hierarchy in how they walked.  One pulled up the rear, holding a small metal chest.  He followed the two in the middle who walked with a sure dignity, but the leading man, who seemed a bit older than the rest, exuded a palpable sense of authority.  The two men in the middle were carrying a large wooden chest banded with high steel and with a thick padlock clearly seen on the front. 

Four of Richter’s guards followed closely behind.  Caulder was among them.  Richter was pleased to see that they were taking the security of the village so seriously.  There might have been a time when he would have thought that an armed escort for trading partners was overkill.  He wouldn’t be so cavalier with the safety of his village again.  The fact that Terrod and Caulder seemed to be on the same page was one less thing he had to worry about. 

The white-clad men stopped a good ten feet away from Richter.  The leader of the group spoke. “I bring you greetings, oh great leader of the Mist Village.”  The man’s voice was a rich bass, booming across the small space that separated him.  “My father wishes you good health and prosperity.  He wishes that he could be here to meet his good friend in person, but hopes that you will accept myself, his eldest son, and my brothers as a poor substitute.”  The man swept his right arm far out to the side and crossed his left arm across his waist as he went into a deep bow.  His brothers placed the chest on the ground and then swept into identical bows.

They held that pose, and Randolphus cleared his throat slightly but poignantly.  Richter looked at him and the chamberlain indicated the four men with a slight crook of his neck.  Taking the cue, Richter took a step forward and said, “I accept this greeting in the grand spirit with which it was given.  When you see your father, tell him that I look forward to the day that we can sit together again.  Until that time comes, however, I am delighted to meet the sons of the man I hope to one day embrace as a brother.” 

All four men smoothly rose from their bows.  The lead man looked Richter in the eye and nodded slightly.  Richter suddenly felt like he had passed some sort of test.  He smiled to himself.  If the man wanted to match flowery language, he shouldn’t go toe-to-toe with someone who had grown up listening to Sting and Sade!  

Tired of not knowing what to call him, Richter used
Analyze.

Name: Abbas. Human: Lvl 17. Health 380. Mana 320. Stamina 260. Disposition: Neutral.
Humans are one of the shortest lived, but most prolific breeders in the Land. Humans have a broader affinity for skills than other races. No special bonuses to race. Humans get four points to distribute per level.  Profession: Trader.

Suddenly Richter was both happy and bothered.  Happy that he had learned more about the man he was about to be negotiating with and also that he had had Basil stay with him.  He was definitely bothered that he was about to negotiate with a Professed Trader though.  That made him realize that he had never actually used
Analyze
on Hafiz.  Richter had thought that he had done well in those negotiations, but if the man was an old Trader, he had probably been fleeced.

“My name is Abbas, Lord Richter.  May we approach?”

Richter schooled his face so that his discomfort didn’t show.  At least he hoped he did.  For all he knew, Traders had a Talent that let them read micro expressions.  Not wanting to draw the moment out, he smiled expansively and swept an arm towards the food-laden table.  “Of course.  We have set out some food so that you can break your fast.  Please eat and drink.  We can talk about the future of our relationship after that.”